The Sun Also Rises
by The Prickly Pineapple
Summary: "Under the bludgeonings of chance/My head is bloodied but unbowed/And yet the menace of the years/Finds and shall find me unafraid/I am the master of my fate/I am the captain of my soul" The determined vow of a child is monumental. For him, and for them.
1. Book 1: Chapter 1

A/N:

For those of you receiving this new story and thus a new chapter and having to look up the fact that I updated in years, I hope you think this might have been worth it. When I stopped writing I was just leaving high school and a few years in college taught me just how juvenile my writing was, so I can say with an arrogant certainty will be much better than any that I've written before. Why is that? Because I shelved my rebellious proud and made a fucking outline. It works.

In specific to this story, I will be presenting this from 3rd person, but the entire perspective will center only on Harry. You'll see what this means shortly if you don't get it now.

Don't know if chapters will be longer or shorter than this. But they will be written, and that should be all that matters.

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Only time I'll say this.**

Harry Potter watched with amazement as the brick wall in front of him seemed to fold in on itself. It was all the more amazing when his eyes returned to the form of his guide for the day, an extremely short, slightly pudgy old man, who'd introduced himself as "Filius Flitwick, Charms Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry". He had seemed most displeased with the Dursleys for my not understanding a single word of his gallant entry. Even though he was short in stature, his future professor could seem quite intimidating when he was angry. It was easy to see why. Aside from being one of the greatest duelists in the world, whatever that meant, the man also had the most intimidating, yet regal hair on anyone. He seemed to be bald on the top of his head, but he had a wild mane of white hair extending from each side of his head. Impossibly each mane seemed to concentrate itself into his sideburns which then proceeded to become his bushy mustache. Harry didn't know if he would ever get used to confronting that every day.

"What do you think, Mr. Potter?" His professor's question tore him back to the present. Harry looked down to his professor to see him wearing a wide smile under that ridiculous mustache and with a knowing glint in his eyes. With a look back at the wall, or what was left of it, he smiled, one of the few real smiles he had had in years. It felt nice, to be able to smile like this. Harry made a vow to himself to stop pretending. He was no longer at the Dursley's. He was free to be whoever he wanted. "Well, let's head on in then shall we? First stop will be Gringott's." With that the man set off, his short legs somehow able to make Harry walk rather quickly to keep up with him. With a snort, Harry wondered just how far this Gringott's place was. _Hell, What is it, for starters._

While the slightly chilling warning on the front of the building – Gringott's was apparently the bank – had made him pause for a moment, the ornateness of the interior was only outweighed by its vastness. Flitwick winked over at him and they proceeded to a teller. _The more time I spend with him, the more I like him._

As they came up to the counter, the teller snarled, "What can I do for you today?" Mentally taken aback by the abrupt greeting, Harry really took in the teller's appearance. He – was it a he? – had an odd shaped head with the longest, most awkward nose Harry had ever seen. His beady eyes were hidden behind a small pair of glasses and entirely shaded by the massive brow of the creature. He had wisps of hair stringing out of his temples and as he placed his hand out for the key that Flitwick wasgiving him, Harry noticed that the creature's hand was long and thin, with slightly yellow, slightly sharpened nails and what looked to be small splotches covering the skin sporadically. _So this is a _goblin. Harry hid a shudder. Flitwick nodded slightly at the key in the goblin's hand and sayed, "We'll only be going down to his trust vault since he can't access his other one."

Harry perked up at that and turned to the goblin, his demeanor demanding, "I have a vault?" His gaze turned to Flitwick. "Trust vault? Wait, you said other vault. I have two vaults?" His eyes widened slightly in shock before he brought himself together. He smirked for a moment before turning back to the goblin, "I want to go to the trust vault first and then the other one."

The goblin nodded once and yelled over his shoulder, "Griphook!" Griphook appeared shortly. "You will take Mr. Potter to his trust vault and then to the Potter family vault. " Griphook bowed his head slightly and gestured for the two of them to follow him.

After a frightening yet exhilarating cart ride – they seemed to use a gigantic rail system Harry had read about in mines to get around – the group arrived outside his trust vault. When the massive door was opened, Harry gaped shamelessly. He had never seen so much gold, never thought so much could exist. He unconsciously walked forward and gazed around. The goblin's monotonous voice cut in, "The trust vault is constantly and instantaneously refilled from the main family vault if at any time the vault's level drops below 50,000 galleons."

Harry almost goggled at the number. "Wait, what's a galleon?"

His answer came from the professor standing to his other side. "those coins in there are galleons. Those are the form of currency with the most value. The next level are sickles; those are silver. And then comes the bronze knut. There are 17 sickles in a galleon and and 29 knuts in a sickle."

"But they aren't actually gold, silver, and bronze are they?" At the goblin's grunt of affirmation, Harry mind was figuratively blown. Then he frowned. "It would be nice though if I could use some of this money in the muggle world too. I can't exacly pay for things with gold."

The goblin next to him sighed, he'd obviously heard this question before, and said, "We provide conversion fees to and from Great British Pounds free of charge. The conversion rate is 1 galleon to 5 GBP"

While he nodded to the goblin in thanks, on the inside his mind was furiously trying to think of the value for gold and silver if sold in the muggle world. He remembered what he came down here for and grabbed one of the bottomless bags – magic was a wonderful thing – hanging on the wall inside the vault and shoved a large number of large handfuls – It seemed like there was plenty, so he might as well – into the bag and turned to leave.

The ride to the Potter vault was just as exhilarating and Harry could have sworn he saw a dragon. One of his childhood fantasies had just come true – It was an unusual feeling. When this door was opened, Harry once again had to gape. As if that vault wasn't big enough, this one seemed to be at least five times as big. Where his trust vault had hills of gold, this vault had mountains. There was one small pile of what Harry assumed were 16 sickles and another with 28 knuts.

There were also piles upon piles of gems and cases full of jewelry and walls – entire _walls –_ of books. There were also a few weapons here and there, but they all looked ceremonial to him. He took a step forward towards a book-wall when he heard his professor cough lately, "As much as I'm sure you'd love to spend a week inside here and indeed it might take that long to do so much as an inventory, we do have a relatively tight schedule to keep."

"Oh, yeah, of course, Professor." Harry ducked his head a bit in embarrassment0 as he followed his professor back to the cart. Upon returning to the atrium, Griphook pointed them in the direction of the currency conversion section. Converting his gold was an easy thing and so they quickly found themselves heading back up the street – And _why_ was it named Diagon _Alley_ anyway?

They stood on the steps looking over the street for a moment before Flitwick turned to him and said, "Well the items on your school list are all over so let's just start to the left and circles around." Harry nodded his assent and they made their way to Madame Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. Before they got too close, however, Flitwick spoke up somewhat nervously, "I have to admit Harry, it won't be an exciting thing waiting in there for you to be done."

Harry raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He flicked his eyes to the store next door, Flourish and Blotts and noticed that it was a bookstore. "I understand, Professor. Trust me, I'd rather not have to bear it myself." They both chuckled. "Why don't I meet you in the bookstore when I'm done?"

flitwick practically jumped up he was so happy. "That would be fantastic! It's like you read my mind!" With that he quickly shuffled off, mumbling something about warding and enchanting and something else Harry couldn't quite catch. Shaking his head in amusement, Harry opened the door to the robe shop.

Shortly after the ding created by the door opening, a homely witch with bright smile shuffled over. "Hogwarts, dear? Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact." As they approached the back of the store, Harry caught sight of the boy already being fitted. He was pale with a small, pointy nose and had a very light shade of blond hair which was slicked back. Harry thought that the boy looked very much like a ferret.

He stepped up onto the second platform and the boy greeted him, "Hello. Hogwarts too?"

Harry, remembering the promise he'd made himself upon entering the alley smiled and said, "Yeah, I'm Harry Potter." The boy's eyes slightly widened and Madame Malkin gasped softly while the witch pinning the other boy's robes dropped her needle. Inwardly he frowned. Flitwick had told him of his fame. He'd also told him of its origin. It was a grisly tale and it made Harry quite resentful. Seeing these reactions, harry came to the sudden realization that he had just entered a world where everybody knew his name. It was a distinctly different change. The Harry that he was would have been uncomfortable in such a situation, so Harry resolved himself to try to step into this role that was being forced on him.

The blond boy quickly got himself together. "Draco Malfoy. Sorry about that, I just didn't expect to be meeting you." Draco shot him a slight smile before glaring down at the girl at his feet. "Ow! You poked me!"

Before Harry could catch himself, he laughed. Draco turned to him, surprise and indignation on his face. He opened his mouth to berate Harry, but seeing the mischievious look in Harry's eyes, he closed his mouth and smiled.

A short time later, Draco's robes were ready and he hopped down from the platform. He smiled up at Harry and said, "It was nice meeting you. Would it be alright if I owled you so we can keep in touch?"

At Harry's look of confusion, he looked down and sneered, "Right. Forgot about the muggles." Harry found himself agreeing with Draco's opinion. "It's how people stay connected. Write out the letter, parchment and quill of course, and tie it the owl's leg and tell it where to go and off it goes."

Harry smiled at such a cool way of talking to people. "Yeah sure that'd be great. I don't have an owl though, of course, so you'd have to write to me first."

Draco nodded and waved farewell, "Will do, Potter." Harry watched him meet up with a blonde woman who could only be his mother even though she looked rather young all things considered. For that matter, now that he thought about it, most of the women he'd seen who looked distinctly like elderly women could be counted on one hand.

After Harry had paid for his robes – he had gotten more than just the school robes of course – he headed next door to the bookshelf and started meandering the shelves. He finally ran into his professor, both laughing at the similarly large pile of books in the other's arms.

Flitwick took one look at the tomes in his arms and shook his head saying, "Those are no good. Come along. I'll show you the good ones." They first proceeded to the section that the store had dedicated to enchanting. "It'll be quite some time until you'll actually be able to do any sort of enchanting; took me years to get started. But we'll get you a couple good foundational books. They'll also help with helping you understand some basic Charms theory." Their next section was a smaller section on household charms. Having been forced to do all the chores by his aunt and uncle, he immediately set out to see how he could use magic to help with that. "Everyone forgets how many everyday tasks can be accomplished with a simple wave of a wand. Here's three good ones. With this section, you have to be careful to make sure you not buying some hopped up advertisement." harry nodded in understanding and they moved off to the elemental section, which was much, much smaller than the last two sections. "A very overlooked branch of magic. Not too much you can do with it unless you're born with a special gift for it. Here's a book that goes over the beginner steps."

He looked at the other books that Harry had grabbed while browsing on his own earlier. "Don't get involved with rituals until you've had quite a few years of schooling. None of the books they'd have in this store would have any real content anyway." Harry made a mental note to look up the reason for this. "_Training your mind to train your magic: Make your magic easy._ Again, you won't find much content on this sort of thing here. I have a couple books myself that I'd be willing to loan you if you'd like." Harry immediately smiled and nodding. "Let's look these over again. Yes, yes, yes. Alright let's head up front and check out."

Harry was suddenly very sure that this delightful little man would most likely be his favorite professor. He couldn't be sure of course, having never met any of the others, but they would have quite a fair amount of ground to make up.

Their next stop was the Apothecary, a disgusting little swamp-store, that both professor and student were glad to be done quickly. They stopped in at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch and Harry, feeling like being luxurious, ordered a big steak – he of course couldn't finish it. After a stop by the Cauldron, they finally arrived at Ollivander's, the resident wand shop, exceptional if he was to believe what he'd been told.

It was quite a while later when Harry emerged with his wand: Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches.

He could still feel the stick of wood in his hand pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He was so absorbed in thinking about his wand that he didn't notice how dark it had gotten. From beside him he heard, "Oh dear, it's quite a bit later than I thought it would be when we'd be done. Let's grab some dinner at the Cauldron and then if you'd like to, we can see about renting you a room for the night." While this was certainly a sentence, his professor sent a questioning glance his way and he smiled and nodded.

After another scrumptious meal, Harry stumbled up to the room that the bartender Tom had given him the key for. He barely got out of his jeans before he passed out on the fluffy bed. While he slept, the wizarding world pulsed around him, its subtle lullaby more than enough to pull him into a deep sleep.

**Special Thanks to Die grimmig Maher, who somehow convinced me to let him beta-read this for me. On another note, due to this position, his criticism is really the only critism that I'm going to immediately consider. **

**Review. Or not. Whatever.**


	2. Book 1: Chapter 2

**A/N: To precede the new chapter, there are a few things that apparently need to be explained better. Most of the reviews asked why Flitwick was chosen to accompany Hagrid to Diagon Alley. To respond with another question: Why would Harry know that Flitwick wasn't Dumbledore's original choice to accompany him? Did JK Rowling explicitly state at this point in canon why Hagrid was chosen? NO! This is the role of the author: to describe situations in a way so that the reader is kept interested while being able to come to their own conclusions. There can be no real foreshadowing if the reader isn't allow to do so. Maybe I'll explain this later. Maybe not. You'll just have to wait and see. If you really need a reason to explain why Flitwick came, then think of one yourself and keep reading to see if you were right.**

**This ties into my second note. Obviously I wasn't specific enough when I said that this story's narrative would focus exclusively on Harry's perspective. If you truly ponder the perspective of JK Rowling's narrating, you'll notice that almost all of the scenes (and I say almost only because I try never to deal in absolutes) involve Harry himself. Even scenes when Voldemort acts and Harry isn't there physically, He's there mentally through his connection to Voldemort. The rest of the information regarding events that happen without his presence, he discovers either through rumors, other people's information, or newspapers. This is the same kind of narrative I am attempting to portray.**

**A/N 2: If you read the above, ignore this. If you skipped past those paragraphs cuz they looked too long to be worth your time, GO READ THE ABOVE PARAGRAPHS. There's important stuff up there.**

Even as Harry pushed his trolley through the barrier that separated the Hogwarts Express from the muggle side of the train station, Harry wondered why he hadn't asked his future Charms professor if there were less mundane methods of getting to the station. He had never been a fan of crowds; not hard to believe considering the upbringing with his relatives had left him with a general dislike towards humankind.

During his upbringing, Harry quickly realized that his relatives disliked him. Harry would not be surprised if they truly hated him. While their dislike for him caused some neglect during his childhood – he had lived in a cupboard under the stairs – they made a conscious effort to not abuse him. They disciplined him, certainly, sometimes with a backhand, but most times with a simple spanking. His uncle Vernon had taken a belt to him a few times, but these times were few and far between and his cousin, Dudley, wasn't immune to the belt either. Harry was resentful of this treatment during his early years as a child, but soon came to realize that his treatment at the hand of his uncle wasn't _too _extraordinary. Harry chose to ignore that Dudley was disciplined less than him and that the discipline was shorter and less painful.

Harry paused a few steps after stepping through the barrier and onto platform 9 ¾. He looked around in wonder and a slight sense of depression. All around him, families were smiling and crying and telling their kids to behave. A number of the children were running underfoot, playing games with friends, a large factor of the general ruckus. Overall, it was a scene of happiness and joy, exactly what Harry had been missing for most of his life.

Harry sighed. He had tried all his life to ignore the fact that he was an orphan, but watching all the families around him smiling and laughing, he couldn't stop the pang of regret. For the second time, Harry wondered what his life would have been like if Voldemort hadn't hunted down his parents during the war.

Professor Flitwick had told him the story of his parents' death. He had tried to relate the tale in a relatively objective way, but it was apparent that he was bitter about the situation. Harry was sure it had to do with his mother being one of the professor's favorite students. While thinking of that conversation left a burning ember of hatred in stomach, a frown was the only visible sign that he allowed to show of his discomfort.

"Harry!" Harry pulled himself from his thoughts by the yell of a familiar voice. He looked to his left to see Draco walking quickly towards him, two adults who could only be the boy's parents following along at a more sedate pace. "Harry, did you just get here? We've just arrived as well. I'm glad to have found you before getting on the train, so we can find a compartment together." Harry's former depression was quickly replaced by a foreign sense of happiness. _Is this what it feels like to greet a friend?_

"Hey Draco. How was the rest of your summer?" Harry laughed slightly as the boy's eyes widened and he began describing his summer in more detail than Harry bothered to listen to. He had grown quite adept at tuning out most of a conversation while still picking up the important bits.

Draco jumped slightly as he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. He looked up and over his shoulder to see his parents had caught up to him. Harry noticed that both parents seemed to recognize him, their eyes doing the flick to his forehead that Harry was slowly growing accustomed to. He nodded slightly at them as they held their silence. "...Harry, are you even listening to me?" Harry smirked slightly and Draco scowled at him. "Anyway, these are my parents. Mother, Father, this is Harry. "

Harry dipped his head again and made sure he spoke clearly. First impressions were important after all. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. You obviously know who I am. I appreciate your discretion."

The woman smiled, showing her perfectly white teeth, "It's a pleasure to meet you dear. I'm Narcissa and this is my husband, Lucius." She gestured to the man next to her, and Lucius nodded towards him. "You two had better get on the train, so you can find your own compartment." She pulled out her wand and pointed it at their trunks. "I'll lighten your trunks for you." They each gave her their thanks and hurried towards the train, eager to board.

They settled into a compartment towards the back and flopped onto the seats after stowing their trunks on the racks over their heads. Harry looked out of the window and saw Draco's parents still standing where they'd left them, involved in what looked to be a quiet yet heated discussion. Narcissa seemed to be speaking the most, with Lucius frowning at her periodically.

Draco again pulled him out of his thoughts. Harry got the feeling that this was going to be happening frequently. "So how was the rest of _your _summer?"

Harry smiled at him and thought for a moment. "It was alright. Flitwick tried to get Dumbledore to let me stay in Diagon for the remainder of the summer, but the Headmaster wouldn't let me stay longer than a week. Now that I think about it, I'm not really sure why he got the final say in where I spent the rest of my summer. I got a lot of stuff done in that week, of course, but then I had to return to my relatives." Draco sneered when he said this. "Don't give me that look. They're not as bad as they're made out to be, and they're treating me even better since Flitwick had some words with them."

Draco smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Did he give 'em some long, threatening speech?" His smile was replaced by a look of contemplation. "Although, I really don't see how such a short guy could be very intimidating."

Harry chuckled. "There's a muggle saying: Big things can come in small packages." Draco frowned when he heard "muggle" but nodded his head and gestured for Harry to continue. "And he didn't even give 'em a long speech. He just looked my aunt and uncle in the eyes and said 'I'm very disappointed in how you've treated you're nephew. Rest assured I will be keeping a close eye on the happenings in this house. I will immediately know as soon as you so much as think of treating him badly again."

Draco smiled and then frowned soon after. "I didn't know there was a spell that could do that."

"That's the best part. When he dropped by later to check up on me the other day and give me some last advice, he told me he was lying. There's nothing at the house that allows him to spy like that." Harry smirked. "But the muggles don't know that."

Draco laughed again, and they continued talking, not even noticing that the train had left the station. After about twenty minutes – the boys were far too distracted to keep track of the time – their compartment door was slid open and two boys trudged in, both of them stockier than most of the kids Harry had seen at his age. The seemed rather similar except that the one on the left had shorter hair and had a rounder face.

"There you guys are! Took you long enough!" The two ducked their heads sheepishly in response to Draco's exclamation, an ironic sight from such burly kids. It was at that point that they seemed to notice the boy sitting across from Draco. Draco turned to Harry, "Harry, these are my friends, Vincent Crabbe," He gestured towards the boy with shorter hair. "and Gregory Goyle." Goyle was obviously the other boy. He then smiled slightly and said to them, "Vince, Greg, this is my new friend, Harry Potter."

The two seemed to sniff as one, the only sign that they recognized the name. Harry smiled at them and said, "I'm pleased to meet you. I hope to be good friends with Draco, and if you two are friends of his then I hope to be friends with you as well." The two smiled briefly and nodded before slumping into opposite seats, Vince next to Draco and Greg next to Harry.

Two hours later and Harry was starting to get a picture of what it was like growing up in a wizard home and a pureblood family on top of that. When he had offhandedly mentioned that he didn't know what "gobstones" was, the three boys around him had taken turns telling stories from their childhood. The three were still going at it even now, though they had started actually playing Gobstones – It happened to be an odd wizard game that was similar to marbles. For some reason that Harry couldn't quite fathom, someone had decided at some point to make the stones spew out a relatively foul substance. Harry wasn't complaining though. It certainly made marbles more interesting.

Since most of the conversation was generated by the others, Harry was able to listen and observe at the same time. It was obvious that Draco was far more outgoing and vocal than either Vince or Greg. While he was slightly ashamed to admit that he thought that the two larger boys were pretty unintelligent, Harry could acknowledge how he came to such an easy, if untrue, assumption. The two seemed slow-witted, but that was proven false when Harry engaged them in conversation. At times it was hard to hear them, for they were both rather soft-spoken, and neither liked to talk much. It took a while, but Harry was starting to worm them out of their shells around him.

Draco was halfway through the story of his greatest birthday celebration to date when there was a knock on their compartment door. After waiting a few seconds, a blonde head poked its way through. The blonde looked around the compartment before seeing Draco. "Here you are, Draco! I've been trying to find you." He sidled his way in and sat down next Greg.

Draco smiled over at him and said, "Hey Zach, how've you been?"

Before the blonde boy could reply, Harry interrupted, "Another friend of yours, Draco?" Harry turned to the newcomer and without letting Draco reply – It was obvious from the way Draco responded to Zach's entrance – "Harry Potter."

After his eyes looked up to Harry's forehead, the boy stuck out his hand and shook Harry's outstretched one. "Zacharias Smith. It's a pleasure." Harry truly looked at him for a moment and saw that aside from his blonde hair, he had a slightly upturned nose and sharp cheekbones. Introductions over, the group settled back to relax as before, now with one more member.

The group talked for a bit before Greg pulled out a deck of cards. "Exploding Snap, anyone?" There were eager noises from everyone – except Harry of course – and Greg smiled sheepishly at him before explaining the rules.

As the train ride went on, their little group of four – Zach had left after a while – was visited by a number of people. Morag MacDougal and Steven Cornfoot joined them not long after Zach had left – again, both were friends of Draco. Morag was a small, wiry girl, thin as a sprite and with long auburn hair that went halfway down her back and a small spattering of freckles was laid daintily across her nose. Steven had black hair and darker skin – he had told Harry that he was part Native American. He had a slightly discernible accent due to his Canadian heritage.

Every once in a while, an older student would pop by and talk with Draco for a moment, but Harry couldn't remember most of their names. It was odd though. From what he had heard – from the upper years in his primary school and on the telly every once in a while – upper years in Secondary usually looked down on underclassmen. It was one thing for fellow first years to be nice to him, but Harry was finally starting to realize what sort of connections he had chosen to befriend. He decided then that he would have to think about how to repay Draco's friendship.

Harry stumbled along with the other first years as they carefully made their way down the small path they were taking from the station. Harry thought it was rather odd that first years were forced to go to the castle a different way than the rest of the students. He shivered and then glared at the tall redhead in front of him as he thought of the warm carriages – driving themselves magically, of course – that the older students got to take up to the castle. His jealousy faded as the first years rounded a bend in the trees. He gasped in wonder at the sight before him – a distant part of his mind noted that Draco also gasped.

A wide lake stretched out in front of him, its surface as still as glass, shimmering softly in the light of the moon overhead. On the far side of the lake, A beautiful castle rested on the peak of a high mountain. Harry climbed into a boat with Draco, Zach and Steve, who insisted that he wanted to be addressed by his whole name of Steven, but no one had really paid any attention to his pleas. The boats lurched forward at the command of the extraordinarily large man in the lead boat who looked to be waving an umbrella around. Harry looked across the small boat at Draco and the two of them shared a grin.

Harry had long ago learned the value of patience, but even he was starting to get restless. After the boats had reached the castle, the large man had handed them off to a tall witch with literally frightening posture and whose black hair was curled up under her hat. Her emerald robes did nothing to downplay her stern expression – there appeared to be no sign of joy in the slightly wrinkled lines of her face. With one eyebrow slightly raised, the witch turned her fierce gaze over them, appraising.

The large man nodded at her and grandly said, "The first years, Professor McGonagall."

She looked over at him and nodded, "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." – So his name was Hagrid; Harry filed that away in the back of his mind. The passageway that witch led them through was as grand as the castle exterior suggested. There were flaming torches that cast eerie shadows on the walls yet bathed the hallway in light at the same time. The witch had led them through the huge oak doors and past another set of large oak doors – Harry assumed that this was the Great Hall, since it seemed that everyone else in the castle was there judging by the noise – and into a small antechamber.

As they were settling in the chamber, which was just small enough to make the crowding uncomfortable, the witch turned to address them. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall you will be sorted into your houses." Harry tuned her out at this point. Draco had already explained all about this earlier.

Harry tried to maintain a cool disposition, but standing in front of the entire school at the front of the Great Hall he could barely contain his nerves. He was so nervous that he barely noticed the kids around him leaving the line to go sit on the stool. He was aware enough to wish his new friends good luck. "Potter, Harry!" Harry took a deep breath – as subtly as he could – and walked steadily over to the stool, sat down, and stuffed the old hat onto his head.

The hat was too big for his head by far and so it fell down over his eyes with no hesitation. He jumped slightly when he heard a voice, "Hmm, Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"

Harry realized that he couldn't very well talk out loud, so he thought to himself – at least, it would have been himself if there wasn't a mind reading hat over his head. He ignored the hat's indignant response: (I do not _read_ minds! The mind is far too complex to be simply _read_! Kids these days...") – _You're the Sorting Hat. Just do what you do._

The hat chuckled softly in his ear. "Not many children will pass up the chance to tell me where they want to go. I don't usually offer the choice at all, but you're a special case. You seem to carry a relatively equal affinity towards the traits which exemplify each of the houses. But if you don't wish to choose, then I shall try to determine which trait can best overwhelm the others."

"...And then there's that ambition. A deep thirst to prove yourself." Harry tried not to think about what the hat was implying. "you resent the fame placed upon you." Harry scowled at the hat. _It's not the fame itself that I don't like_. Harry could feel the hat nodding in his mind. "It's not that. You hate the fact that you are famous for something you don't remember. You're only famous because you survived." Harry glared at the hat; it was getting much too personal. "Your anger seals it. Your ambition definitely outweighs your other traits. Use that ambition to further your goals; It is a powerful source of motivation...SLYTHERIN!" Harry jumped at the abrupt end of the conversation. He was pondering so hard on the words exchanged with the hat that he didn't notice the pregnant pause of the Great Hall, nor the sudden clapping coming from the right side of the Hall as Draco led the Slytherin table in a rousing cheer.


	3. Book 1: Chapter 3

**A/N: So here's the next chapter. This is where I expect there to be some protest about the way this story is progressing cuz here's where it really starts to diverge from canon, and in a way that I haven't seen before so I hope you all can also appreciate it. **

**Anyway, enjoy.**

**Chapter 3**

Harry tried to ignore the stares from the rest of the hall by actively engaging in the conversations around him. He tried to weave back and forth from conversation to conversation. To his left, Draco was talking to the girl across from him, Pansy Parkinson. Their conversation seemed to be about some childhood memory of something or other. Honestly, Harry really didn't find it interesting whatsoever. It was in fact the very reason he chose to change conversations.

The boy to his right, Blaise Zabini was engaged in a conversation with Theodore – "Do not call me Teddy." – Nott down the table a little ways. They were arguing about the superiority of their quidditch team, Puddlemere United and Montrose Magpies respectively. Obviously Harry had no idea what the two teams were or what they were about. Draco had told him the ins and outs of quidditch on the train, so Harry listened intently so that he could pick up more information.

Directly across from him, a girl with light blonde hair – Daphne Greengrass – was talking to a girl with cropped brown hair and rectangular glasses perched on her nose – Tracy Davis – about make-up charms. He felt more than heard the bench creak next to him. He turned to his side – Blaise had apparently been convinced to sit elsewhere – and saw one of the older students he had met on the train, Marcus Flint, lounging against the table.

Marcus Flint was a rather large boy, although not in the same manner as Dudley. Where Dudley was just fat, Marcus kept himself in good shape; there was still a fair amount of fat on his frame – He had told Harry about his extreme love of good food – but Harry had no doubt that there was plenty of muscle hiding underneath.

Harry sighed in relief. "Thank god you came over. These guys are so boring." Draco and Greengrass both heard him and glared at him before resuming their conversations.

Marcus laughed. "Just wanted to see how you're doing, how you like the food, that sort of thing."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "But why did you come over now? Kind of a waste of time." Marcus was about to placate him, but Harry continued before he could open his mouth. "Unless you just want to be seen with me to leech off my social status." The older boy stared at him. "This is one of those power plays, isn't it?"

Draco poked his head over Harry's shoulder – Harry made a note to find a way to stop people from eavesdropping. "Nicely done Harry. You're learning quickly. Now that you know his game, you hold all the cards. What's your next step?"

Harry looked over at him and scrunched his face up. "This is leverage right?" Draco nodded. Harry vaguely heard Flint sigh in resignation. "now I extort him for my own gain?" Draco nodded, his face a picture of smugness. Flint choked on the roll he had been eating.

Harry turned back around to Flint, his face set in stone. "You can hang around I guess." Draco looked as though he had just eaten a particularly sour lemon. "I don't think it'll be easy though. These people are gonna be on me like a pack of wolves." He gestured to the Great Hall where it was obvious that people were staring at Harry and gossiping.

Flint nodded in understanding. "I suppose I can keep 'em off of you. Least I can do." He cracked his knuckles and Harry tried to ignore the malicious gleam that had entered his eyes.

He quickly turned around to Draco, who clapped him on the shoulder and smiled at him. Harry smiled back and they turned back to the table to tuck into their plates again. They paused however when they looked across the table. The three girls across from them each had their arms crossed over their chest and their right eyebrow raised. The symmetry of the three made the situation quite horrifying to the two boys, who had both grown up being chased around by girls they had upset in one way or another.

Marcus snorted in laughter. "A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead-"

A boy down the table laughed and called out, "None of 'em have red hair, stupid!"

Marcus stood up and scowled at the boy. "Shut up, Pucey!" Pucey stuck his tongue out. "You're about to become my bitch when quidditch starts, you little shit!" Pucey sat down quietly, and Marcus smirked in triumph before strutting off to wherever he had been sitting before talking to Harry.

The girls across from them all giggled at the antics and Harry and Draco sighed in relief. Greengrass caught them and glared at them. The two gulped and tore into their slightly cold dinner.

With Marcus' presence, Harry remained free from hassle by his fellow students. That was one of the only positives of his first week of classes. He and Draco had gotten lost numerous times – seeing whether Vince or Greg had an idea of where they were was pointless; even they agreed – which resulted in a loss of points on a couple of occasions. Most particularly from his Potions professor. Harry had never met the man before, but it seemed as though the man bore a viscous grudge for him. Harry didn't really pay it any mind. He had been ignored and scorned many times when he was younger. Being around when weird things happened caused most children to avoid him. Those that weren't convinced to avoid him due to weirdness were scared away by Dudley and his gang.

He was doing fine in Astronomy and relatively well in History of Magic, mainly due to being familiar with how both classes operate – he had learned some about the stars in Primary and History was just remembering dates and names for the most part. That hadn't really changed with History of Magic. The names and dates and happenings thereof were just fantastical.

When it came to his classes that required practical application, he was far behind his peers. He was beginning to get the theory down, which wasn't so bad considering that the rest of the muggle-raised were in the same situation. Unfortunately for Harry, he was one of the few students in his house not raised in a pureblood home, let alone with no prior connection to the magical world, so he was far behind his housemates.

After he had acclimated to life in the castle, he immediately set to learning as much as he could to catch up. Occasionally he would hang out with Draco and a few others for a little bit, but more often then not, he was in the library or a spare classroom. While at first his housemates had looked down on him for not being able to keep up, but when they noticed how much effort he was putting in to remedying that, they let it go.

As September faded into October, less and less people ventured outside, and the snow started plummeting. Harry's studying had been paying off so far. He was now around the middle of the pack as far as practical work, but his knowledge of theory was progressing at a fairly quick pace and he was in the upper quarter of his housemates when the Halloween feast came around.

Harry and Draco were trotting down the staircase from the last class of the day, and, as he usually did, Harry turned to head off to the library. He had taken to skipping dinner most days in favor of the quiet dusty shelves – This was the best time to get some solitude since most of the school never missed dinner in the Great Hall.

Draco, halfway through telling Harry about the time he had accidentally burned off his dad's hair when he was a kid. "I tell you Harry, the look on his face was so priceless! Thank Merlin for accidental magic; I'd have been in so much trouble otherwise." He turned to Harry just as Harry was about to head off to the library, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Harry! You can't miss the Halloween feast! Especially not to go to the library again. You're almost there as much as Granger." He scowled at the thought of the rather annoying muggleborn.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait a tic. It's Halloween already?"

Draco sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, mate. Come on. I know you love your books but you can't miss this, especially when it's your first time." Harry nodded and the two continued on to the Great Hall. When Draco and Harry sat down, much of the table turned to look at them in surprise. Like Draco, they had obviously noticed, and become accustomed to, Harry not being at the table for dinner.

Harry quickly found himself enjoying the feast and resolved to himself that he would try not to spend quite as much time in the library. His year-mates' – and especially Draco's – budding friendship was something that he had never experienced before. It was a unique experience to have people around him who actually noticed he was absent, let alone cared.

He was currently enjoying Hogwarts' most excellent treacle tart when Theodore frowned and leaned in, causing the rest of them to do so as well. "I wonder why Quirrel's chairs empty. It's weird that anyone would want to miss the feast." He and a few of the others looked pointedly over at Harry.

Harry looked down sheepishly until Draco nudged him in the ribs and mumbled just low enough for the others not to hear, "Lowering your head makes you look weak." Harry snapped his head up and flicked his eyes over to the Head Table, frowning when he also noticed their Defense professor's vacant seat.

The answer to Theodore's implied question came when the doors to the Great Hall banged open followed by the screaming of Professor Quirrel. "Troll! In the Dungeons!" He stopped suddenly and stumbled slightly. "Thought you ought to know." The hall was totally silent as Professor Quirrel fainted. All at once the Hall erupted into noise, a cacophony of screams, yells and frightened conversations.

Professor Dumbledore – Harry still wasn't sure why no one called him Headmaster. It was his title after all. – silenced the noise in a moment with a loud bang let out from his wand. "Prefects, please lead your students back to your dorms in an orderly manner." He rushed out of the hall after saying this, the other professors hot on his heels. Harry had never seen the headmaster with such a serious visage. It was easy for him to understand now why he was a leader of the wizarding world.

Professor Snape paused to speak to the prefects briefly and after striding out of the hall, the prefects announced, "Professor Snape has informed me that we will be heading to the library." The entire house seemed to let out a sigh of relief. Harry and Draco shared a brief glance as they headed to the library with the rest of the house. From the look on Draco's face, Harry was quite sure that Draco was just as terrified as he was: A lot.

Harry slept fitfully that night, and awoke, like much of the school, having bags under his eyes. Every first year at the breakfast table looked ready to fall asleep into whatever food they had piled on their plate. The one exception to this was Pansy, who was happily buttering a roll. Draco sneered at the roll and addressed Pansy, "How are you not tired?"

Pansy turned to him and took a bite of her roll with a smile. "I went to Madam Pomfrey this morning. She gave me a pepper-up." She took another bite of her roll and Draco scowled at her. Harry was very close to doing the same. "Far more interesting, I know what happened last night." They were too tired to make any outward sign of interest but they all turned towards her. "Granger got trapped in the girls loo. Apparently Weasley insulted her and she ran off crying." Blaise motioned for her to continue. "Anyway, so she's crying in the loo when the troll comes bursting in and starts wrecking up the place. Somehow, the mudblood," Harry frowned slightly when he heard this but kept listening. "was able to keep quiet enough to not be found by the troll. After a little bit, the professors burst in and saved her." She looked over at the Gryffindor table. "I wish they hadn't."

Harry couldn't deny that he felt that too on a smaller level. She really was quite annoying. He wasn't sure that there was anyone that wasn't a teacher who liked her. He frowned over at her. She was eating alone at the end of the table, a cloud of melancholy hanging over her. Harry knew the signs of a socially inept childhood. He had had one himself after all. But where he had adjusted his outlook and habits to acclimate to this new world, she refused to do so. She even went so far as to try to enforce her own values on the wizarding world. Upon reflection, Harry found himself disliking her more than when he woke up.

By the middle of November, most of the school had forgotten about the troll. Except Granger, of course. Her already obvious love of the professors had reached to a level near fanaticism. Even the people who tolerated her had trouble doing so. The castle had grown even colder of late, almost remarkably so even for November in Scotland, if that's even possible. While most of the students had taken to wearing their winter cloaks inside, Harry refrained from doing so. He liked the cold. When he was younger, the cold of his cupboard reminded him that he was alive. He relished the goosebumps on his arm and the fog that left his mouth. Draco, being the vain ponce he was – a fact which Harry teased him about as often as possible – couldn't stand the cold.

It was towards the start of December that people began to discuss their Christmas plans. As the list of people who would be staying over the holiday was passed around the Common Room, his year-mates were excitedly discussing their holiday plans. Draco was bragging about the trip to France that his family planned to make. "Father has some sort of relative who lives in our estate in Marseille. We've told him – he's not important enough to remember his name – that we plan to visit."

They continued to discuss. Blaise would be visiting his cousins in Italy with his mother – that explained his olive complexion that remained even in the winter. Tracy's father had a business trip – Harry still wasn't sure what business the man did – so she and her mother were going to be with Daphne's family who were remaining in their manor in Devonshire. Theodore was also staying home for the holiday and Harry didn't bother to listen to Pansy gushing. She usually talked for more than was necessary. As the list made it around to the first years, Harry tried to write down his name as surreptitiously as he could, but Tracy noticed. "Harry, you're staying for the holiday?" Most of the group frowned at her. "Oh right, awful mudblood relatives."

"Indeed." Harry's abrupt answer, combined with him immediately returning his attention to the book in front of him, an interesting tome about the nature and origin of wand movements, made it clear that the discussion was finished.

As Christmas break came closer and closer, Harry had to ignore the conversations of the people around him more and more. At first he didn't mind hearing about all of his friends' plans, but the more they talked, the more depressed he got about staying at Hogwarts. In the few months since Harry had arrived, he had come to consider the castle his home. He felt guilty about wanting to leave, so he tried to console himself with the fact that he would pretty much have the library to himself for the entirety of the break.

The last week before break was even harder for him. He threw himself into studying without abandon. Earlier in the semester, he had missed dinner most days. Now he didn't go to dinner at all. And he rarely went to breakfast or lunch. He was trying not to totally ignore his friends so he forced himself to spend time with Draco when he could. Draco seemed just as busy and distracted as he was, so Harry was beginning to abandon everything to his studying.

The day before break, Draco pulled Harry aside after their last class, "Harry, how you feelin'?" Harry raised an eyebrow and glared at him slightly. "Alright, that was bad."

Harry sighed. "What is it, Draco? Some last thing you wanted to say to me before you got on the train?"

"Yes, actually." Draco took a deep breath. "I wanted you to know that you're not gonna be alone over break." He paused and Harry leaned forward, waiting. "I'm not getting on the train tonight, Harry."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "What are you – " Draco looked pointedly at him. "Oh! Draco, you didn't need to do this. What about your parents? Won't they be disappointed?"

Draco smiled at him. "Harry, you're the first real friend I've ever had. You think I couldn't see how much everyone's leaving affected you?" Harry looked down sheepishly. "I asked my parents if you could stay with us for the holiday, but Father said no. So I told him I was staying here instead."

Harry smiled gratefully. "And he was okay with that?"

Draco scoffed. "Of course not. According to my mother's letters, he was furious. But she got him to settle down." He snorted in amusement. "It's taken weeks of course, but Mother can be very persuasive."

Harry's smile got even larger. "You've been planning this for weeks?" Draco nodded. He lowered his head, whispering, "Thank you, Draco." To Harry this was a big proclamation, for Harry was rarely willing to show people his graciousness. Draco, having a similar outlook, just turned around and they walked together to the common room to wee the others off. Neither of them mentioned the slight wetness of their eyes. Boys didn't cry after all.

Draco and Harry waved to their friends as the Hogwarts Express left Hogsmeade Station on its way to London. When the smoke spewing from the engine could no longer be seen, Harry and Draco turned to trudge back up to the castle, wrapping their cloaks around themselves in a feeble attempt to ward off the cold.

Harry sighed in relief as the warmth of the Entrance Hall seeped into his bones. They were about to turn to go down into the dungeons when they bumped into Stephen Cornfoot walking down from the stairs leading up to the upper floors. His nose was deep into a book and it didn't seem like he noticed them, so Harry called out to him as he passed, "Hey, Steve!" The boy jumped and turned around, smiling when he noticed who they were.

Steve walked back to where Harry and Draco were standing. "Hey guys. I didn't know you guys would be staying here for Christmas." He turned to Draco. "I thought for sure that you would be going home."

Draco smirked at him – Harry was starting to think that was his usual demeanor. "I couldn't let Harry here take over the dorm. Merlin knows there would be nothing left when we all got back."

Steve and Harry both burst out laughing, but Harry was the first to comment, "You know the house-elves would fix up everything." He and Draco chuckled before they turned to each other and smiled wickedly. By the time they turned back to Steve, they had reverted to their usual expressions, Harry slightly smiling and Draco slightly smirking. "So how've you been Steve? It's been too long!"

Steve smiled and put his book in his bag, "Yeah it has, I've just been trying to keep my grades up and whatnot."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I bet you haven't been studying nearly as much as Harry here. He's been to a handful of dinners since term started."

Steve shrugged. "Well listen, it was nice running into each other but I better head off. Some of the other guys are getting together for a quick snowball fight." He smiled widely. "Actually, you guys wanna join us? The more the merrier."

harry and Draco's eyes widened and they smiled, before saying at the same time, "Absolutely!" All three briskly walked outside – running was unseemly after all. When they made it outside, the rest of the group seem shocked to see the two Slytherins before most of them shook their hands and greeted them – the Gryffindors sneered at them from off to the side. Most of the lions were Weasleys – it seemed that all five of them were staying for the holiday. Harry and Draco were the only Slytherins. Steve and Zach were the only others that they recognized and there were a smattering of other Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

They all came together to agree on the rules. It was decided that since so many people were there the fight would be a battle royale. There were few rules beyond that – the usual no face or groin shots and no magic since that would be unfair to the younger years. After agreeing to the rules, they had ten minutes to prepare. With a whistle, the fight was on.

When it was finally too dark to see anymore, everyone trudged inside, tired and shivering everyone of them. As a group, they all sighed when they entered the school – The inside of the school was delightfully warm. When they entered the Great Hall, they all stopped in their tracks. Instead of four tables, there was one large table where some of the students and all of the teachers were already sitting down to eat. The Headmaster noticed them come in. "Ahhhh, and the valiant warriors return!" His bright smiled faded and he rose an eyebrow. "Although I'm quite disappointed that no one wanted to ask me to join. I love a good snowball fight!"

Harry smiled at him as they sat down a few seats from the Headmaster. "Sure thing Professor! No magic allowed though."

Dumbledore smiled at them and returned, "I wouldn't dream of it, boys!" Someone further down the table harrumphed. "And girls of course." After that, they all dug in to dinner.

Christmas morning started early for Harry and Draco as is often the case with young boys. Harry awoke to the sound of wrapping paper being torn. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Harry grunted and looked over at Draco's bed to see him already tearing into his rather large pile of presents. It was at this moment that Draco looked up at him. "Happy Christmas, Harry!" He looked at the pile over ripped up wrapping paper that he had thrown off to the side and turned back to Harry with a bit of guilt. "I tried to wake you up but you were out like a light."

Harry laughed and finally got out of bed. He sat down at the foot of his bed facing his own pile of presents – a pile that was significantly smaller than Draco's and reached for the present on top of the pile. Before he opened it, Draco spoke up again, "I didn't open any of my presents from our friends and my parents." He gestured at the pile of wrapping paper. "These are all from distant family that I don't really care about. Most of whom I've never even met. Anyway, that means we can take turns!" Harry smiled at him again and with a slightly viscous smile, he tore into the pile in front of him.

What the boys would call the Wrapping Paper Massacre for days to come was drawing towards an end. Harry was carefully munching on some of the Bertie Bott's Every-flavor Beans that Draco's father had given him as he watched Draco unwrap his last gift – from Harry of course. As the paper was thrown aside, Draco unrolled the poster that Harry had given him. Plastered across the front was the star chaser for the Falmouth Falcons – Draco's quidditch team – smirking as he hovered on his broom and tossed a quaffle up and down. Draco immediately jumped up and stuck it on the wall above his bed.

Harry waited until Draco got back and tore off the wrapping paper of his second to last gift, Draco's of course. Fittingly, when the paper was out of the way Harry saw that Draco's gift was a book detailing the history of the Falcons. He smiled over at him and said his thanks before turning to his last present. It was a brown lumpy package; the tag of the package didn't say who the present was from. Harry frowned as he read the note that came with the tag. Draco, seeing him frown, reached over and took the card out of his hand. "'So this was once your Dad's?"

Harry shrugged. "If the guy who sent it is telling the truth, yeah." He hesitated before he opened the present. This one he carefully unwrapped; he didn't want to risk damaging something that once belonged to his father.

As the paper was taken off, some sort of clothing slid out like liquid silver. Draco gasped, "That's an invisibility cloak. Those are extremely rare." Harry looked over at him, so Draco elaborated. "My father has one – family heirloom actually – and he rarely even takes it out of the family vault." Harry let the cloth slide back and forth across his fingers – it really did feel like it was made from some sort of liquid and went to stand in front of the mirror. Once he was in front of the mirror, he threw the cloak over his body and gasped as his reflection disappeared. It was obviously too big for him, but as he took it off, He smiled over at Draco, mischief clearly written in his eyes. Draco returned the grin after a moment. Prefects across the country paused as they felt a shiver run up their spine.

After dumping all of their presents on their beds, the two headed off to the Great Hall for lunch. Harry had gotten candy for the most part. He found himself particularly enjoying the sugar quills that he had received from Blaise. Pansy, Daphne, and Tracy pooled their money together and got him a beautiful new quill, self inking and with an assortment of enchantments to prevent making a mess made from the tail feather of a Peahen. Draco's mother had given his a small leather bound book with no title and filled from front to back with hand-written script. Draco confirmed that it was his mother's handwriting and after skimming a few pages declared it to be a "guide to smiling at someone while stabbing them in the back".

When they entered the Hall, the students and teachers were arrayed around the one table that they had grown used to seeing. They waved to and greeted those who they knew and sat down to eat. Towards the end of the meal, the Headmaster cleared his throat to gain their attention. "With our bellies full, I don't suppose any of you are up to a snowball fight?" The twinkle of mischief in his eyes made most of the students smile in glee. Draco and Harry nodded eagerly; they'd be damned before they refused a challenge to a snowball fight.

**So there it is. Hermione is not going to play a big role in this story. You may have also noticed that there has been no interest whatsoever in the Philosopher's stone, mainly because in this story, there's really no realistic reason for Harry and company to actually be suspicious of anything. Likewise, Hagrid will also not play a role. Because there's no Philosopher's stone mumbo jumbo, there's really nothing of importance to go over in the second term. So don't be surprised if the next chapter just jumps right into 2nd year. I haven't decided yet, but it's definitely possible.**


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